


run boy run

by makeshiftrolley, Solstheim (SweetRaspberryTea)



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Custom Ryder Twins, M/M, Mentions of religion, Multiverse, Non-Pathfinder Ryder, Post-Canon, Reverse Mass Effect Big Bang 2019, Soulmates, Suicidal Thoughts, Torture, background Female Ryder/Vetra Nyx, if you squint tbh, kinda???
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-25 12:44:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19746025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makeshiftrolley/pseuds/makeshiftrolley, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetRaspberryTea/pseuds/Solstheim
Summary: Non-Pathfinder Ryder twin is sent to Kadara to deal with the Charlatan problem, which isn't the kindest place to be in, truthfully. Ruled by Sloane Kelly with an iron fist, she has one goal: eliminate Vidal and his petty little gang and secure her place as the true ruler of Kadara. Ryder might be instrumental to his downfall.In his first mission for Sloane, Ryder meets a charming young man who challenges everything he knows.





	1. this world is not meant for you

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to take my collab partner **Solstheim** for providing the beautiful art for this piece that I kinda took and went wild with. I love that I'm able to work and experiment with these characters that I've been writing for almost two years now. I'm gonna be honest, I cried so many times writing this. I mean crying is sad but I hope this fic will have the same impact. 
> 
> And as always I'd like to thank **Azzy** for hosting the MEBB every year!
> 
> [Art masterpost](https://welcometosolstheim.tumblr.com/post/186226611906/solstheimart-time-for-mebb-posting-yall-d) [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4hQSo6nalrRTYrJHFe9Y0N?si=MzpF4ppDSjSBy0Rj_4A2mQ)
> 
>   
>    
> 

_Bahala na sa Diyos_. A Tagalog saying, it means Let it be to God in English. Lola Tess often says even if her grandchildren haven’t been Catholic since they were teenagers. Jean finds it odd how she, Dr. Teresa Panlilo Reyes, renowned scientist and philanthropist, merges her faith with reason. 

( _Bahala na sa Diyos_ , Lola Tess said it a lot when Mom frequented the hospital. Three years later, she buried her daughter at a cemetery beside Barasoain.

Six hundred years later, she was right.) 

He walks to the shooting range, staring at Meridian’s Earth-like sky. There’s supposed to be a heavenly figure up there, sitting on a golden throne. She knows all of her children’s lives and the paths they take and the paths she bestows happen for a reason.

There's no reason for his predicament. 

Dad always says he’s a good shot.

He remembers on their seventh birthday, Dad gifted Jean and his sister a trip to the special shooting range on the Presidium. A consolation prize for all the six birthdays he missed. One caveat when they got there, only N7s were allowed inside but Dad made a few favours, deliberately emphasizing it’s his kids’ birthday and sneaked them in. 

Seven-year-old Jean held and fired his first gun then; Dad said he was a natural. Twenty-five year old Jean empties his pistol at the targets on the Nexus’ shooting range; the first he’s fired a gun since getting kidnapped. 

Pathetic but it’s a better sport than lying down and doing nothing. Ever since they arrived in Andromeda, that’s all he’s done and he’s fucking sick and tired of it. 

And right, he was kidnapped. 

Seven-year-old Jean pretended the targets were the bad guys in the old Earth flicks he and Gabriela weren’t supposed to watch.

Twenty-five year old Jean pretends the targets are the kett. 

He exits the shooting range bored out of his mind and frustrated. Gabriela hasn't given him anything to do and it's been two months since they discovered Meridian. He's supposed to be the Pathfinder's Recon Specialist.

His Omni tool rings. It's from Gabriela.

"Hey, how are you?" She greets, eyes bright and a warm smile.

"Same old, same old," he replies. "I managed to beat my high score at the shooting range, today. You know? Where I practice my aim?"

"That's good."

Yeah, _that's good_ , alright. Her achievements exceed his by a mile. While he shoots plastic targets, Gabriela terraforms broken worlds. While he lies down and gets kidnapped, she saves the fucking cluster. 

And he's Alec Ryder's prodigy. Not her.

"Listen," she begins, "I might have this job for you."

His eyes perk up. "Oh?"

"Yeah, come into my office on the Hyperion. I mean I guess it's Port Meridian now. Yeah just come into my office."

The call ends. He speeds through the Pathfinder's quarters--Gabriela's office, his heart pounding against his chest with excitement.

Gabriela pulls him into a tight hug. He grumbles, complaining they’re not seven anymore and they see each other every day. 

“Just because we’re twenty-five doesn’t mean I can’t hug you anymore.” She sticks her tongue out. 

Jean rolls his eyes. “Just tell me what the mission is!”

Gabriela presses a button on her terminal. An interface pops up on his Omni tool showing him details of Kadara Port, ruled by the Nexus’ former Head of Security, Sloane Kelly. A holo of her is on the interface, scowling. 

"She seems friendly," Jean comments. 

"Yeah, wait till you meet the other exiles," Gabriela says. "Anyway, Kadara has this problem. It's been in a gang war for almost two years and Sloane can't stop bothering me about sending reinforcements to deal with it."

"War with who?"

Gabriela replies. "The Collective, led by an enigmatic leader known as the Charlatan." 

Jean snickers. "That's a really stupid nickname."

"Wait till you find out his real name." 

Jean closes his Omni tool. "I'm guessing I'm the reinforcement."

"Yeah," She replies, lounging down on the couch by her desk. "Just do what Sloane tells you to do. She has more details about it. The next shuttle to Kadara is in four hours so you should have enough time to pack."

Gabriela gives him another tight hug before he leaves. This time he doesn't complain. 

"Good luck," she smiles. "I know you'll do great."

\--

If they’re going to establish a kingdom in owned territory, they should at least clean up the place. Kadara Port is a mess. The trash on the ground creates a mosaic, which Jean would find beautiful if it doesn’t smell like piss and vomit. A turian and krogan beat up a human outside Kralla’s Song. No one seems to mind; they come in and out of the bar passing the poor human bleeding on the street.

It’s like Old Manila in a way, before the Revolution that dismantled the old system, and hell, before the Prothean device on Mars. Lola Tess often told them stories of people killing innocents in the name of justice and how bystanders ignored them out of fear. It isn’t until the people marched the streets of EDSA did real change occur. And for once, in the tumultuous history of his homeland, it worked. 

Jean walks pass the fight. It’s neither his battle nor his place. He’s here for a mission, stop the Charlatan.

At least, Sloane Kelly doesn’t pretend her rule is anything but conquest. She sits on a metal throne, poised like a queen. A turian stands by her side, carrying a rifle, and her royal guards surround her throne room. 

“Are you lost, Nexus?” She demands, scanning his armour with an evil eye. “Last I heard, your outpost is still in the Badlands, unless it’s been eaten by an eiroch.”

The turian snickers. 

Jean glares at him. He knows he stands out. Every single exile has ogled at his armour since he got here. 

He coughs, standing tall. “My name is Jean Ryder, I am the Recon Specialist of the human Pathfinder team. I have been sent by—”

“Cut the crap, I know you,” Sloane cuts him off. “Your sister sent me a resume of your abilities and experience.” She rolls her eyes. “Fucking Nexus bullshit. Just tell me you’ll bring back Vidal’s head.”

Jean nods. Okay, he’s not sure about bringing back his head specifically but he’ll kill him if he has to. 

“Good,” Sloane leans back on her chair, pressing her fingertips together. She turns to the turian, “Kaetus, explain to Ryder our plans.”

"Since the failed coup, the Collective has gone into hiding. Our initial plan was to bleed them dry by targeting their key bases until they have no choice but to get out," he explains. "But Vidal is always three steps ahead of us. Every time we eliminate a base, another one pops up right away, like he’s been waiting for us the entire time. So we’re sending you after him. ” 

He pulls a holoframe of a map with red crosses spread throughout Kadara. “We’ve narrowed down every possible location he might have been to. Vidal’s smart but he’s not invincible. Investigate. See if you can find any leads. He doesn’t know you so that gives us an advantage.”

Jean stares at the blank frame. “For someone who’s been looking for a guy for months, you sure don’t have a lot of shit on him.”

“We did. But they were all wiped out when Vidal escaped. No files, no holos, even the records are gone.”

“Not even DNA samples? Or sketches?” Jean asks. In the C-Sec drama vids, they always have those as backups.

Kaetus replies. “Vidal’s a careful man. Even his hideout in Tartarus is scrubbed clean. Besides, without the Nexus records, we have nothing to match his DNA with.”

“And you think anyone of us has time or want to come up with a little sketch of that bastard?” Sloane sneers, leaning her cheek against her hand propped on the throne arm. 

_And you expect me to find this guy without even knowing what he looks like?_ Jean thinks. He shrugs. “I’m just saying, it might help if I have a frame of reference here.”

“He’s human,” Sloane says, counting using her fingers. “Was a smuggler, a slimy bastard who lies, oh and he runs the biggest threat to Kadara since the kett, what more do you want?” 

A holo? A description? Details? Something tangible aside from Sloane’s personal opinion on Reyes Vidal. He flicks his index finger against his middle finger. It’s for the people, he tells himself. He’s on a mission for the Initiative, not for Sloane. 

“If you’re just going to stand there and glower all day then fuck off back to the Nexus,” Sloane says. “I asked for help in eliminating the Collective, not to sit here and play twenty questions.” 

Jean clenches his hands; his fingers dig deep on his gloves. It’s not even an hour since he got here and he has already angered their ruler. What kind of recon specialist is he if he cannot adapt to any situation? Dad would have taken this mission in stride. What would he say if he’s here to witness his son backing out of a mission?

“Look, I’ll do it,” Jean says, “just tell me where to start.”

A faint smile forms at her lips. “My information broker has all the details. You can find him at his office.”

Kaetus scoffs. “Right, the info broker. His office is at the far end. You can’t miss it.”

He’s surprised Sloane hasn’t fired the information broker yet. She seems like she runs a tight ship, organized and control in the way she wants to. The broker’s office is a mess—a clean mess, with a stack of books clumsily piled onto one corner of his desk. 

"Aoba Kamiyama Ferreira," the broker shakes his hand. "But please, Aoba will do." He leans back on his oversized chair. "Names are a strange concept, aren't they? Every culture of every race, whether the Milky Way or Andromeda have their own naming conventions. See, my mother is Japanese and my father is Brazilian and while the Alliance loves to parrot that ethnicity doesn't matter, it does in some cases, especially when you are a biracial child with a very traditional family. In the end, my father and mother hated each other and they separated when I was thirteen but because of some set of rules, I still keep both their surnames."

Jean blinks. He didn’t expect to be lectured by some kid on naming conventions. "How is this related to the mission?"

Aoba says leans forward, resting his chin on his interlocked fingers. "The base you're looking for is at Varren's Scalp. Nothing too fancy about it. It’s been abandoned since the last Outcast raid. But it’s the best place you can start if you want to find Reyes Vidal. I heard it’s one of his main backup bases.”

Jean nods and takes the datapad. He finds a shuttle waiting for him outside of the throne room. 

— **Fulano de Tal** is online—  
— **DukeE** is online—

**FT:** Whoa, Pathfinder twin doesnt suspect a single thing! He didnt even question me!   
**FT:** This is gonna be good!   
**FT:** Btw, I sent him over. Do you need anything else? Like info? Cause I got the Pathfinder’s resume on him right here.  
**DE** : No, I’ll handle it from here on. Thank you. 

—

Turns out the base at Varren's Scalp isn't an abandoned warehouse. After finding a datapad containing information on Reyes Vidal's whereabouts, a party of Collective agents ambushes him. 

And now, he's hiding behind a pillar, throwing exchanging shots with the snipers on the catwalk. He launches a warp field at the snipers, knocking one of the catwalks. He walks out of cover and throws up a biotic aegis. The bullets ricochet off the shield, leaving indents on the walls and roof. Suddenly, the lone sniper throws a grenade unexpectedly at him. He jumps back, using his biotics to propel himself from the impact zone. But the impact is too much, it pushes him onto the ground. Jean coughs. Smoke and ash burn in his lungs.

The sniper reloads and aims. 

With the little biotics he can muster, Jean prepares a shield and braces for impact. 

_Bang_. It’s not from the sniper. There’s blood on his hands where a bullet has gone through it. He crumples on the ground, holding his bloodied hand. A shadowy figure lands in front of Jean. He walks to the sniper. 

“Please,” he begs, blood dripping from his mouth. The figure pulls his head back, and places a gun at his throat. He fires. Blood and bits splatter on the wall. The figure spins around and walks towards him.

_What the fuck?_ Jean thinks. He grabs his pistol, and stands up, legs wobbly and weak. 

“Are you okay?” the figure asks. Jean points his pistol at him. 

“You honestly think I’m one of them? I just killed all of your assailants.” The figure releases the latch on their helmet with a hiss. They take it off. 

He has amber eyes that are as warm as his favourite sunsets on Earth. They have a glint of mischief in them and a mystery begging to be explored. His tousled hair frames his face perfectly, and his flushed skin has a golden glow and Jean can help but think about how they feel under his touch.

And here’s the thing. Here’s the big fucking thing. Jean has never believed in love at first sight or fate or that stupid bullshit on astrology sites about love. He can’t just believe that an all-powerful being on a throne above the skies has a map of his life. Everything that happens in the universe has some measurable logic behind it.

But this…this…. His heart is beating faster than a speeding train and his palms are sweating inside his gloves. Goddamnit.

“I was patrolling the area when I heard gunshots. My name is Juan Pérez,” he says, “ And you are?” 

Close your mouth and fucking say something. “Right uh...funnily enough, my name is Juan too. It's just no one calls me that."

(What the fuck? What the fuck did you just say?)

(Good job, Jean. You just blew all your chances. Not that he even wanted a chance. 

(Okay, he _is_ handsome.)

Pérez quirks an eyebrow. “So, what should I call you then?”

He coughs to hide the blush blooming under his cheeks. “Jean.”

“Jean?”

He scratches his nape. “Yeah it’s a long story, involving Filipino nicknames. You probably don’t want to hear it.”

Pérez closes the distance between them, rocking on his heels. Jean swears his heart skips a beat. “Sound like an interesting story. I’ve got time” he drawls. 

Okay, this is really weird. They just met and now Pérez wants to know his fucking life story. Fuck. He has to stop this. He has to—

“Over drinks, maybe?” Jean asks, feeling a little bold. 

Pérez scrunches his nose. A part of him thinks Pérez is hiding something. The other art fears he might have overstepped his boundaries. “Another time, perhaps.” Pérez claps him on the shoulder and it’s a feeling that’s gonna linger with him for some time. 

Jean frowns. “Why not? You were ecstatic to hear this earlier”

“I just—ah remembered I have another appointment,” he says. “I’ll see you around, Jean.”

He winks (really) and leaves. 

Jean stands there, feeling deflated. Was it something he said?

—

Kadara’s a mess and it’s not changing anytime soon. Her sunsets are beautiful, however, painting her mountain peaks gold and washing the transport area in warm, glowing light. He’s seen the image before, in a boy’s golden eyes, enticing him to learn all his secrets. Mama always said the secrets can be found in someone's eyes. He wonders what mysteries Juan Pérez 's hides behind his amber eyes.

His Omni tool rings. It’s from Gabriela. Jean squashes his cigarette under his heel.

“Hey, so how was your first day?” Gabriela asks nonchalantly.

“Alright, I guess.”

Gabriela twirls a lock of hair around her index finger. “Sloane didn’t chew you alive?”

“No.” 

“I’m amazed,” She grins. “She usually hates people like you. You know uptight Alliance types.”

Jean pops a cig from his pocket. He doesn't light it. "Yeah, well, I impressed her so."

"Congrats, you have the Queen of Kadara on your side!"

Jean cringes at the title. He quirks an eyebrow. "And you don't?"

"Well," Gabriela drums her fingers on the desk. "It's more out of convenience than anything. She protects Ditaeon while I pay a price in return. Win! And sort of Win!" 

"Uh-huh." 

"Look, you won't understand," Gabriela says. "Anyway, I've got to go. Nice talking with you."

"Sure, bye."

The call ends. Gabriela's holo flicks away. 

He lights his cigarette. This is pointless.

\--

> To: Jean Ryder
> 
> From: Juan Pérez
> 
> Subject: Is this the right Juan?
> 
> Chatting through email sounds primitive. Let's talk here:

Attached to the email is a link. His terminal scans it for any malware and says it's good. He clicks it. 

A popup appears on his screen asking for a username. Shit, what should he put? On the Nexus' messaging app, he uses jryder as per Nexus standards but that's too professional for this kind of messaging. He needs something less Alliance uptight. Something that can show off his personality and his interests. 

\-- **ectoBiotic** is online--  
\-- **sina.traas** is online—

**ST:** So tell me the story about your name?  
**EB:** look i really don't think you want to listen to it.   
**EB:** uggh that was a bad ice breaker line to begin with im sorry  
**ST:** You presume I'm not interested in learning about my partner’s quirks  
**EB** : we’re partners? 

(He hates to admit, he likes this predicament.)

**ST** : Aren’t we?  
**EB** : I just thought partner means we’ve worked together on more than one thing  
**ST** : Killing rogue exiles is enough to count as partners in this area. Trust me, our rendezvous at Varren’s Scalp isn’t the last you’ll ever see of me. ;) 

(In what world, does a simple emote make him blush)

**ST:** Now, I’m truly dying to hear the story about why your parents graciously called you Jean as opposed to your first name.  
**EB** : it’s not my parents  
**EB:** also i have three first names but that’s not the point right now  
**ST** : Oh hmm? Three first names?   
**EB:** you know what take me out for drinks and i’ll tell you every single one

( **_sina.traas_ ** _is typing_ takes a second. Was he being too forward? Too aggressive in his pursuit?) 

**ST** : ;)  
**ST** : Right now, I'm more interested in how you're nicknamed Jean  
**EB** : right, sorry for diverting the topic so much.  
**EB** : my relatives needed a perfect nickname for a two-month-old baby who happens to share the same name as his Dad and grandpa  
**EB:** they had a bunch of nicknames like the usual  
**ST** : The usual?  
**EB** : boy, toto...the usual nicknames every filipino kid has. good god, im glad they stuck with jean because that would be an embarrassment when I grow up  
**EB** : anyway, tita nina, my aunt btw suggested jean  
**EB** : idk why, maybe she finished a concert in france or something and jean’s like the equivalent of john but it’s jean btw like denim jeans or gene  
**EB** : not jjohn  
**ST** : and here i thought you were secretly the son of a prince  
**EB:** of some secret french country? no thanks  
**EB:** like aside from the ph never being a french colony  
**EB** : wouldn’t it be fucked up to be a royal?   
**EB:** you’d be like the product of the same 5 people fucking each other for10 centuries   
**ST** : Wouldn’t you want the power or the riches of being royalty?  
**EB:** i can do that without being the by-product of two cousins  
**EB** : or stealing someone else’s country  
**ST:** So I take it you don’t like Sloane?

**EB** : i think shes fine.  
**ST** : You don't really think that. You've seen the port. The horrors she has inflicted.  
**E** B: look we have a professional relationship 

(It’s an empty room but he checks regardless if anyone’s watching.)

**EB** : okay look if you want the truth, i honestly think shes not good for kadara  
**EB** : she rules by conquest and no one on the port seems to like it  
**EB:** except for her cronies of course  
**ST** : How about the Charlatan?  
**EB** : i havent met him so i cant say i have a personal opinion  
**EB** : but see i think he's bad too  
**EB** : unless hes gonna be a figurehead like u know the queen of england when they still had a monarchy  
**EB** : and let the angara rule

\-- **sina.traas** is offline-- 


	2. love is such an abstract art

Sloane has called for a meeting with her closest advisors. A large round table sits at the centre of the throne room where Sloane receives her audience. Among her council is Kaetus, her information broker, an angaran woman he hasn't met and Jean, surprisingly. 

They spend most of the morning discussing plans: combat plans, plans for every structure in Kadara, at least the ones Kaetus knows of and plans for Kadara's future, which the angaran woman, Keema Dorghun, Sloane's advisor to angaran relations brings up often. 

"Those in the slums could benefit from these programs,” Dorghun slides a datapad across the large round table and into Sloane’s hands. “You can review them after the meeting or any other time. But I have no interest in furthering our current discourse.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sloane nods. She picks up the datapad, her expression blank as she scrolls through the data. She sets the datapad on the table.

“Ryder, you haven’t said anything since the meeting started,” she addresses Jean. “Are you lost? Do you need a hand? I can’t contact your sister if you need special assistance.”

“No. Sorry, I was just--” He glances at Sloane and then Kaetus, Ferreira and Dorghun. “There’s a lot on my mind about the mission.”

“Then speak up! I didn't bring you here so you can sit and daydream while the rest of us run a planet!"

Jean flowers, flicking his index finger. All he has been thinking about in the past day is the mysterious charming man he met at Varren's Scalp.

"Do you know a Juan Pérez?" Jean asks.

Without missing a beat, Ferreira speaks up. "Juan Pérez is a freelance mercenary, travelling planet to planet depending on his job. He never stays at one place but he's constantly spotted throughout the Badlands. He was a former shuttle pilot in the Milky Way. Don't know why but he was exiled during the Uprising when he took the 'wrong side.'"

Kaetus grumbles, "I was about to say that."

"Is he Collective?" Sloane asks. 

"Neither," Ferreira responds, leaning back against his chair, so his legs kinda jump. "In fact, he wasn't on Kadara until after Vidal's coup and spent most of the time freelancing. Look, here's a list of his most recent contracts." 

Ferreira passes a datapad to Sloane. That's odd. How can he know about Sloane and the Charlatan if he's only been here after the coup? Word gets around, perhaps.

She reads it and says, "sounds like he's been working mostly to eliminate the Collective threat." 

"Yeah, I met him at Varren's Scalp at the now-defunct Collective base over there," Jean says, "He saved my ass actually."

He's done more than that but he's not letting Sloane know about his petty crush.

Sloane taps her index finger on her chin. "Keep him close. We might need his assistance later."

Sloane sends him to a Collective base tucked deep inside the Draullir caves. He’s supposed to find intel for their next attack, anything that can help the Outcasts. He contacts Pérez and agrees to meet outside the base. 

“Ready?” Pérez pulls out his pistol. “Not sure how useful this is.”

Jean quirks an eyebrow. “Really? You don’t think there might be Collective agents in there.”

“The only thing inside those caves are wild animals. If there are agents, we should have been spotted right now.”

“I mean we can certainly use this for pest control,” Jean suggests.

“Or if we take the right route, then we can miss them entirely.” 

Jean follows Pérez through the winding caves. His index finger rests on the trigger, preparing to shoot any wild animal or Collective agent. Pérez is right, they spot no one in the cave and they arrive by a door without firing a single shot. Jean hacks the console. The door opens without any resistance. 

It’s abandoned. No agents, no security drones or prisoners. Nothing. The only thing inside the base are terminals and datapads. All of them are still on. It’s like they all got up and left in a hurry or the Collective isn’t as competent as they appear to be.

Pérez points at the terminals in the far corner. “I’ll search over there.”

Jean nods. He checks every terminal on his end. Nothing useful. Most of the information he manages to access have black lines covering up important data. It’s the same thing with the data pads. 

“Come check this out!” Pérez calls. Jean walks over to Pérez . He hands him a datapad containing what looks to be plans for a warehouse. 

“I don’t know what that says though.” He points at the jumbled text written above the plans. 

Jean investigates the scrambled words. The syntax isn’t from any known languages both human and alien. It looks like it has been purposefully scrambled. 

“It’s a cipher! See the way the letters are arranged.” Jean says, “it’s systematic which means--”

“We need a key!”

“Yeah,” Jean grins. “I don’t have a cipher decoder installed in my Omni tool but I’m sure they have one at the Outcast headquarters. Thanks for this! I’ll pass it to Sloane. Did you find anything else?”

Pérez shakes his head. “No. The data in the other terminals and data pads are all redacted. This is the only one I can find that wasn’t.” 

“Same on my end.” Jean smiles. “Thanks! This would surely help our mission.” 

“No problem.” 

When they exit out of the cave, Govorkam is setting behind the mountains. 

“That was rather anti-climatic,” Jean comments, sliding his pistol back into his holster. “I was hoping to at least find some more details on Reyes Vidal’s whereabouts. Not that the data you gave me isn’t important.”

“I understand.”

Jean kicks the dirt, casting his gaze on the ground. “So, I’ll see you next time then?” 

“The day is young. Carpe diem. Take a leap of faith as you’ve never done before. ” Pérez spins around, laughing. 

He wants to remind him he— _they_ all have taken a leap of faith when they embarked on a journey across galaxies. 

“Okay,” he grins wide. He’s sure Sloane wouldn’t mind him missing out on their meeting. 

Pérez takes them to a plateau beyond the Badlands. The dying sun paints the landscape molten gold. 

"Whiskey?" He holds out a bottle. "It's Mount Milgrom. The only one in Andromeda and--" he shakes the bottle; the liquid sloshing inside. "It's almost gone."

"Sure," he says. 

They sit at a spot overlooking the valley, sharing the Mount Milgrom in silence. Beyond the chaos of the port, Kadara seems peaceful. The vista offers a view that he has been looking for since coming to Andromeda. 

“I was tired living the same old life in the Milky Way,” he takes a long pull from the bottle. “You ever thought of your legacy? How they’ll write you in the history books?”

Jean nods. As a child of giants in the scientific community, he has for his entire fucking life.

“If I stayed, my chapter will be a blank page if it even makes it into the history books. Maybe a single line stating I’m related to someone bigger and better than I would ever be.” He bounces the bottle between his palms, casting a long gaze at the horizon. “In Andromeda, everyone has a blank page waiting to be filled, and I want mine overflowing, it fits an entire chapter.”

Jean grins. “That’s rather poetic coming from you.”

“Coming from me?” He quirks an eyebrow, mischievously. 

“Yeah, you don’t seem like the type of person who waxes poetically about the universe’s most unanswered questions.”

He leans forward, pressing the Mount Milgrom against Jean’s chest. “And, is that a bad thing?”

His heart skips a beat. The closeness of him and their space makes him shiver. A blush surely creeps upon his cheeks which is embarrassing because Pérez is right at his face, and their lips are so close, one move they’ll be kissing. 

“No,” he says, taking the whiskey from his hand. 

Pérez moves away from his space and Jean can breathe. “And, what about you? Why did Jean Ryder come to Andromeda?”

“My Dad,” he takes a long swig from the whiskey, the heat sending fire down his throat but it makes this whole grief thing a lot easier. It’s easier to talk about Dad when he’s not sober or sober enough.

“He had a promise. Andromeda would be better for us—for _you_ , he said. Andromeda is the place where I can finally prove myself to him. And then he dies, while I slept. He fucking died and I’ll never hear how proud he is of me or how happy I made him.”

He swallows down a sob. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. 

Pérez inches closer so their shoulders touch. “You shouldn’t base your worth on a dead man.”

“That dead man is my father and a hero," he counters. "Everything I've ever worked for, my accomplishments, my goals, I owe it to him."

"You don't actually believe that."

"Yes," Jean snaps. "He wanted me to join the Alliance and be the best soldier there was so I worked my ass off to be one." Turning away, he drags his arm over the tears pooling around his eyelids. "Without him, I'm just some kid who failed to dream."

“He’s not here anymore is he?” Pérez says.

“Yeah, I just told you. He’s dead unless the angara have some special resurrection technology.”

“And you’re not some kid who failed to dream?”

“No, you just--Look you don’t get it.”

Pérez turns around so he faces him completely. "You're smart and kind and a better man than your father ever hoped for. Your father's dead. You don't need his approval anymore."

He stares blankly at Pérez . For most of his life, this is what he wanted but maybe, Pérez is right. He doesn’t need Dad’s approval to achieve greatness and be worth something. Just like how Perez doesn’t need his name written in the stars to be important. 

“You know what,” Jean gets up, exhilarated at his newfound confidence. “Why are we even looking at other people to judge our worth? We don’t need them! We are important ourselves if we believe we are!”

He offers Pérez a hand; Pérez takes it and Jean pulls him up. “You don’t need a chapter in the history books to be someone.”

“And you don’t need your father’s approval to be worthy!” Pérez shouts it into the distance. Their voices echo throughout the mountains. The only sound after awhile is their breathing and Jean notices how close their lips are. 

Govorkam paints the sky and the valley a deep red. They’re standing on a cliff overlooking the vastness of the Badlands. If there isn’t a scene more picturesque for a cinematic, overproduced and dramatic first kiss like in the old vids, then Jean doesn’t know what will. He closes his eyes, waiting for Pérez ’ lips on his. 

“I think I should go,” Pérez whispers and steps back. “You should too if you don’t want to evoke Sloane’s ire.” 

And he leaves Jean alone to watch Govorkam completes her sunset. 

He sees Sloane by the entrance to Kralla’s Song. 

“You’re late,” she says, peeling herself from the wall.

Jean hands her the datapad they found in the warehouse. She says nothing as she reads, her expression void of any emotion. Then her lips crack into a smile and she claps Jean on the back. 

Okay, he did not expect this kind of reaction from her. 

“You need to decode the cipher by the way,” Jean explains. 

"I'll pass this along to Kaetus," she says jubilantly. "You've done well, Ryder. More than I initially thought. Let me buy you a drink."

"Thanks but I'm kinda tired. And my sister would be calling me in any--" 

Sloane yanks his hand and drags him into Kralla’s Song before he can finish his excuse. 

They find themselves sitting at the bar. Kralla’s Song is mostly full Sloane orders two beers for them.

“Cheers!” She clinks their bottles together.

“What for?” He takes a swig of his beer. It tastes plain like they just filled a jug of water with alcohol and sold it as beer. He’s missing the sweet, smokey taste of Mount Milgrom. 

“For doing amazing, of course.” Sloane signals the bartender for another bottle. She has already finished hers. “I don’t usually do this for people but you deserve it. We’re one step closer to weeding out Vidal because of you.”

Jean rolls the bottle between his palms. “Can I ask you something?”

Sloane downs her second bottle of beer. “Sure, why not? You’re official--Hey Umi, give me something stronger!”

Umi rolls her eyes. She slides a glass of dark brown liquor in front of Sloane. 

“Angaran brandy, your favourite,” Umi says. 

Sloane winks at her. “You’re the best!” 

"So," she nudges his elbow, "where were we?"

"I had a question. What would you do after this is over?"

Sloane laughs a loud belly laugh that has some of the patrons looking at her. "Retire, maybe, find someplace quiet in Sulfur Springs."

"I meant after the Collective is defeated," he says, drinking from his bottle. "Your plans for Kadara."

"I said what I said," she leans in close to Jean. "Look, between you and I, I'm not much of a politician. Maybe it was easier to convince a bunch of angry exiles who had one common problem but after Ditaeon, and your sister's work in reestablishing connections between the exiles and Nexus, not so much."

She drinks her brandy. "They're complaining, all of them. Lack of food, lack of shelter, medicine and I can't possibly focus on that while there's a war going on."

"Some of them didn't really ask for that war," Jean comments. 

"They did when Vidal staged a coup." She finishes her drink, slamming the empty glass on the counter. "Kaetus will take over. He has a lot of ideas for this place that would be good for the exiles and the Nexus."

He thinks of bringing up Keema Dorghun as her successor. Maybe it's time Kadara has an angara in control of the port. But he decides against it. It's not his place.


	3. perfect paradise (tearing at the seams)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **tw** mentions of torture, descriptions of violence

— **ectoBiotic** is online—  
\-- **sina.traas** is online—

**EB** : hey, thanks for that.   
**EB** : i dont know if ill ever get over dad’s death   
**EB** : but it’s good to talk about it with someone else aside from my sister  
**EB** : who doesn’t give a flying fuck about how i feel  
**ST** : No problem and you’re always welcome to talk to me about anything

(There’s a thing he absolutely wants to talk about but it concerns him and fuck, Jean doesn’t know if he’s ready to deal with the fallout). 

**EB** : this is a weird question   
**EB** : and stop me before it comes wayyyy tooo personal  
**EB** : have u ever been in love?

(A pause. Then **_sina.traas_ ** _is typing_ appears for way too long on his screen, he wants to retract his question. Then delete his account and never speak to Pérez again.)

 **  
** **ST :** I can’t say I have. I’ve had a few flings, relationships but none of them fit the definition of love. Perhaps, I’m not worthy of one. I’m too driven, too passionate about the minuscule things   
**ST** : Or maybe, I’m just waiting for the right person to paint the colour in my life. 

(Of course, he’ll wax poetry about love. It’s cheesy and weird, and this is a private chat between two individuals, not some poetry contest.

But he can’t get enough of it.)

 **EB: t** hat’s rather…depressing  
**EB** : i think everyone is worthy of being loved  
**ST** : That’s painfully optimistic of you  
**EB** : i know, but it’s true though! You don’t need a love expert to tell you that.   
**ST:** Hmm…then have you ever fallen in love?  
**EB** : once a long time ago, a really long time ago if we count the time we were In cryosleep   
**EB** : he was handsome and smart and intelligent and was in love with him before I knew I was gay. He was my first in everything, first relationship, first kiss, first time...you get it…we were set to get married as soon as we both finished engineering school   
**EB** : we made a promise and everything   
**EB:** it sounds dumb but i even got our ring sizes and everything  
**ST** : sounds like a lovely guy, what happened?

(He lights up a cig. He’s been doing that less and less recently.)

 **EB** : he dumped me  
**EB:** iwas being selfish because i didnt care enough about him when he has problems  
**EB** : but expected him to give a shit about me when i have problems  
**EB** : god, he wasnt the one who just received a fucking phone call from the hospital telling me that my mom is terminal and there wasn’t a cure to her disease   
**EB:** but I was supposed to be happy for him.  
**EB** : his estranged parents finally cared to visit him on lunar new year   
**EB** : and they were the fucking worst. Srsly, idk why they even bothered coming if all they were gonna do is complain at the restaurant  
**EB:** and i was supposed to sit and smile while dealing with their bullshit   
**EB** : we had a chat after and he kept asking me what’s wrong, what’s wrong after hours of not giving a shit and i laid out to him that my mom’s fucking dying and he didn’t fucking care   
**EB:** he was happy, I shouldn’t ruin his happiness. i mean his asshole of a mom was still alive, regardless if she genuinely cared about her children or not.  
**EB:** and then he dumps me.   
**ST** : Stop me if I’m overstepping my boundaries, but that _was_ rather selfish of you. Maybe, he did care but he was around family he hasn’t seen in years, trying to reconcile with him.  
**EB** : yeah i guess so  
**EB** : I guess I was being an ass  
**EB:** but whatever, it’s been 600 years. He’s probably dead and basically didn’t talk to him after we broke up.   
**EB:** so there ya go. I only loved one man and looked how that turned out.   
**EB:** i guess like you im also looking for the right guy to paint the colours of my life

He dares to be bold. 

**EB:** and maybe i already have 

\-- **sina.traas** is offline—

Pérez offers him a ride for their next mission. 

Their meeting location is odd, at Sulfur Springs, by the large pool sitting at the foot of the mountain. If this isn't for a mission to investigate Collective bases, he'd think it could be an ambush. 

Pérez pulls him up into the shuttle and they stumble inside. Okay okay, his lips are an inch away from Jean's mouth. And yeah okay, his knee is on his junk but that shouldn't factor into how hard he is right now. 

He thinks about kissing him again. It isn't as cinematic as their moment on Kurinth's Valley but he's so close, Jean feels his breath on his lips. 

Pérez steps back. He breaks into a laugh and it's the prettiest sound Jean has ever heard. (Not helping yourself here, Ryder). They fly out of Sulfur Springs. Jean sinks in his chair, pretending none of it has happened. He looks at Pérez. He wishes he'd stop playing around.

The location Sloane wants them to investigate is again at Varren's Scalp, west of the warehouse they investigated earlier. Jean hops out of the shuttle. The prefab is plain and unassuming, attached to the foot of the mountain. He hacks the console to the door.

Blood. He smells it as soon as he steps inside. The pungent odour overwhelms him; it's nauseating. There's a table on one side of the room, coated in dried blood. He pulls out his scanner; the blood on the table cannot be determined which species it belongs to. He spots a set of rusted tools at the middle of the table. All are coated in blood. They've all been used for torture. Bile rises up his throat. This is a torture house; the Collective uses torture. 

It's not as if it's uncommon on this planet. Sloane does the same thing, except orders her Outcast agents to perform their torture in broad daylight. The Charlatan does it behind closed doors.

Both remind him of Old Manila. 

Pérez investigates the terminals. He procures a data chip. "This might be helpful?" 

Jean checks it with his scanner. "It needs to be deciphered. Did you find anything else?"

Pérez shakes his head. 

"Good, because I would really like to get the fuck out--"

He hears an anguished groan. 

"Did you hear that?" 

"Yeah, it's coming from over there." Pérez points his pistol at the green cubicle in the back corner. 

Jean approaches the cubicle at the corner, ordering Pérez to follow him. He pulls on the latch, slowly opening the door. 

There's a human man, bound to a metal chair. His face is heavily disfigured, body covered in cuts and bruises. He's missing a finger, several of them. Jean wants to vomit. 

"End it! Oh please end it," the man begs.

"It's okay," Jean says, "we're here to help!"

His head lolls to one side. "No, don't. I have nothing here. No one. I left my family behind thinking I can make a difference in a new galaxy. Then the Initiative fucks up and and--you have to end it. Please, you have to."

Pérez holds his shoulder. "Do it, Jean. That man is suffering."

Jean's hands tremble as he reaches for his pistol. He aims for the man's head. Before he closes his eyes, Jean catches a glimpse of a crooked smile on the man's lips.

He pulls the trigger. The shot echoes across the mountains.

He trails behind Pérez as they make their way to the shuttle. They haven't spoken since leaving the torture house. 

Pérez stops. He spins around.

"You've been awfully quiet," he says.

"Huh? Oh," Jean looks up. "Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind."

He can't stop thinking about the man. What his dreams are, his aspirations, how he lived on Kadara and if there's anyone looking for him. There always is.

"Do you want to talk about it?" 

"Did I do the right thing?" He asks. 

"I can't be the judge of that, but," Pérez places his hand on Jean's shoulder. "I think you did. You saw that man. He was suffering. He begged you to kill him and you did."

Jean shrugs off his hand. "But he might have people looking for him! Friends, lovers."

"If there's anything I know from this place is at the end of the day, no one here really cares. On this world, there are only allies and enemies. No friends and especially no lovers." 

Pérez spins around and resumes walking back to the shuttle.

Jean picks up his pace. "Just because there aren't friends and lovers on this forsaken place doesn't mean that man--"

The ground shakes. Pérez stops. He sees it, an eiroch gallivanting from the distance. The form grows larger and larger. 

It's rampaging towards them--towards Pérez. 

He has a second to act.

Jean charges his biotics. 

The eiroch charges at them. 

One second. Jean pushes Pérez to the side. He forms a barrier. The eiroch collides with him, propelling him across the clearing. 

He can’t remember much after that. He knows Pérez dragged his body across the clearing and into the shuttle. He’s lying on a cot made with cushions, stripped out of his armour and wearing Perez’s jacket. They fly out of the clearing. Kadara’s sky has a beautiful blue hue and Pérez’s jacket--Pérez smells nice. 

Pérez presses a damp cloth on the wound on his side. Jean hisses. A painful sting cuts through his flesh.

“Hold still,” Pérez orders, adding pressure on the cloth. “That was rather foolish of you. Stepping in front of a rampaging eiroch.”

Jean is lying down on a couch, inside a nicely decorated prefab, at least better than the ones on Kadara. The walls have a few paintings here and there, all of Kadara's beautiful sunsets. There's a balcony across from the sofa; he can see some of the Valley from where he's lying. He assumes this is Pérez's place.

“As opposed to a Juan Pérez pancake?” He jokes. Pérez isn’t laughing. 

“I had a plan.” He drops the cloth in the basin, tinting the water red. Shuffling through his pack, he procures a canister, medigel which he rubs between his fingers. “Lift your arm up.”

Jean groans. Every muscle in his body protests. Pérez applies a clear film of medigel over the wound. It soothes him. 

"Why did you do that? Save a man who's not worth saving." He presses a tourniquet over the wound, binding it with medical tape. The application is clumsy, with the tourniquet not covering the full expanse of the wound. "You should see a doctor about that."

“Yeah, thanks,” he smiles weakly. “And you’re not not worth saving.” 

"You do think so?"

"Yeah." He's lightheaded from the medigel or the pain or the man he's infatuated with sitting close to him. "I know so. You're just so brave and confident, and smart and I can't believe you think you're some nobody."

Pérez skates his fingers over his cheek and his jaw. He rests his thumb on his chin, leans down and kisses him. Soft and slow at first, as if he's testing to see Jean's reaction. 

Jean kisses back. He's waited too long for this moment to happen. Tugging Pérez' short hair, Jean moans into his mouth, swiping his tongue across his lips. Pérez opens his mouth, swirling his tongue with Jean's. 

"I'm sorry, I should have asked." He says after they part, breathless; their lips are still touching.

"No, it's fine." 

And he kisses Pérez again.

\-- **ectoBiotic** is online--

 **EB:** so are we uhh  
**EB:** a thing or is this serious or  
**EB:** look i just wanna know  
**EB:** you’re all i ever think about these days

Jean hasn't heard from him in days nor seen him in his missions. A part of him thinks he's freelancing on another planet, someplace better than Kadara and he longs for their reunion. A darker part of him thinks it's all a lie. Pérez doesn't actually like him and he's only getting close to him for power or recognition from Sloane.

He's on a call with Gabriela, daydreaming about a man he met a week ago. He doesn't catch what she says. It's probably nothing important to him.

"I take it someone has a boyfriend," Gabriela says in a singsong voice. She giggles.

Jean jumps, straightening (snort) his form on his seat.

"What, no I don't" He argues.

"Hmmm…" Gabriela twirls her finger. "When did Vetra, Jaal and I solved the mystery of the missing pyjak on the Nexus?"

"Last Wednesday. No Thursday." Shit.

"Wrong. It's a trick question. It was on Harvarl, not the Nexus." She laughs, "you weren't paying attention."

"I have a lot of things in my mind and it's not because of some boy." A lie. He scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. "Look, I'm helping Sloane plan a big attack on the Collective."

Gabriela leans forward, resting her chin on her hand. "Really?"

"Really."

"Reaaalllly?"

Jean glares at her. Her lips stretch into a wide grin; she wiggles her eyebrows. 

"Okay fine, there's this guy I like who I think likes me back," Jean quickly adds, "but ugh...it's complicated right now. I haven't seen or talked to him in days."

"I'm sure he'll come around," she says, "Vetra and I took forever to get together and we liked each other for a long time."

"You said you two danced around your feelings for a while. We actually kissed."

Gabriela raises her eyebrow. "And he hasn't talked to you?"

"Since our first kiss."

"Ouch."

"Yeah," Jean sinks into his chair. "I'm starting to think he just used me as a distraction."

"I mean, maybe," she taps her finger against her cheek. "Maybe, he's been planning this surprise party for you where he'll officially ask you to be his boyfriend! You don't know. Just stay positive." She smiles.

"I hope so."

\-- **DukeE** is online--  
\-- **DK** is online--

**DK** : “you’re all i ever think about these days”  
**DK** : Isn’t that cute? He's in love.  
**DE** : Of course, I've been telling him everything he wants to hear.   
**DK** : Do you believe that?  
**DK** : Is that why you choose this primitive messaging system to contact me instead of inviting me into your lovely abode so I don't poke holes your lies?  
**DE** : I'm a busy man. Sloane's planning an ambush on our base at Spirit's Ledge and I'm preparing what little defence we have left.  
**DK** : Yes, she's been restless for the past few days. I haven't seen your boy around much either.   
**DK:** The little I've seen him, he looks dazed, sad like a hmm--what's that phrase for you humans? A love illness, no, not pyjak. I remember pyjaks aren't native to Earth. You showed me a frame of one of those small, furry animals.  
**DE** : A lovesick puppy?  
**DK:** Yes, a lovesick puppy.  
**DK** : I think your boy misses you.  
**DE** : First off, he's _not_ _my boy_. Second, it's his fault for falling head over heels over a man he's only known for three days.  
**DK** : Which you deliberately planned. I remember you saying you wanted to charm the Pathfinder's twin into falling in love with you so he can give away all his sister's and the Nexus' secrets and you enact the perfect revenge against her.   
**DK** : He's in love with you so why not get the secrets? It's a perfect opportunity to get closer to him.  
**DE** : I'm a busy man.  
**DK** : (sent an image of an animated emoji of a shocked face)  
**DK:** You're protecting him!   
**DE** : I'm not.  
**DK** : Yes, you are. You don't want his secrets.  
**DE:** I do. Stop with these baseless accusations.  
**DK:** Because when he finds out you're not who you say you are and he's in love with the man he's sent to kill, you'll break his heart. 

\-- **DukeE** is offline--

There's a knock on his door.

"Come in," Jean calls.

Sloane walks inside, closing the door behind her. She has a datapad in her hand.

"I think I owe you an apology about our first meeting when I berated you about the lack of information about your target," Sloane says, rubbing the back of her neck. "Thanks to your efforts, however, Kaetus and our engineers have managed to retrieve enough information about Reyes Vidal."

She drops the datapad on his desk. "Read it. It's important for tonight's ambush."

She exits the room without another word.

Jean turns on the datapad. The first few paragraphs detail about his life since coming to Andromeda. He's a pilot with the codename "Anubis." (What's with this guy and corny nicknames? He supposes with a name like Reyes Vidal, he's eternally cursed for having the cheesiest names to use). In 2818, a year before the Hyperion arrived on Meridian, he along with countless of others are exiled blah blah blah, the usual stuff.

He needs to see a holo of him. Scrolling down to the end of the datapad, he catches an image.

His heart feels like it stopped. The datapad clangs on the metal desk.

The man on the holo bears resemblance, no _is_ Juan Pérez. He has his deep brown skin, shorn black hair cut and the golden eyes he loves so much. Juan Pérez _is_ Reyes Vidal.

No, Reyes Vidal _is_ Juan Pérez. The Charlatan, leader of the Collective and the man he's supposed to kill.

The man he has fallen in love with.

He laughs. It's so obvious now. How he knows where the warehouse is on Varren's Scalp and came at an opportune time to save him. How he knows his way around the Draullir caves and which datapad to find.

How he's so dismissive of Jean's wishes to find the torture victim's friends or lovers. He must have killed all of them or hell, have them mutilated and their remains, thrown in a river. 

Jean feels nauseated. He runs to the bathroom and throws up his lunch in the toilet.

He _kissed_ Reyes Vidal.

What would Dad think of him now? Falling in love with the man he's supposed to kill. He's laughing in the sky with the deity who has his life written out in the stars--there's no reason for this, no answers.

He's stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.


	4. a moth trapped in light by fixation

He's supposed to be preparing for the attack tonight but all he wants to do is curl up under his covers and sleep eternally. Maybe the next time he wakes up, no one remembers Sloane Kelly and her stupid war with the Collective. And he can live in seclusion with the man he desires, no war to split them both.

But the man he's infatuated with started this petty war and Jean is sent to kill him.

He wishes he never woke up from cryosleep. 

The Outcasts have a camp set up behind a rock formation just at the edge of Spirit's Ledge. Sloane isn't in her usual Outcast get up but in Initiative armour. However, the colours are replaced with the Outcasts and the initiative mark scratched.

"We will split into two groups, Alpha and Zeta," Sloane zooms into the holo. "Group Zeta, led by Kaetus will stay behind that rock formation." She circles the mound on the map. "Wait for my signal, and ambush the Collective forces waiting at this exit." 

"Alpha, you charge with me in the front line," she says. "We'll be taking the Collective head-on."

She looks around the crowd gathered around her table. Many of them have scars, mark the battles they fought in the Milky Way. 

"Everyone got your assignments?" The crowd shouts a resounding "aye." 

Sloane pumps her fist in the air. "Let's finish it here! Kill those bastards once and for all! For the Outcast!"

“For the Outcast!” The crowd cheers. Sloane stands tall and proud, gazing at her audience with glowing confidence. 

She walks towards him. Placing her hand on his shoulder, she whispers, “Ryder can I see you in private.”

They find a spot away from the crowd. Sloane crosses her arms over chest. 

“You know your assignment, right?” Sloane asks. 

“Yeah, kill Reyes Vidal and bring you his head,” he says, keeping his voice steady. He hopes Sloane doesn’t hear his uncertainty. 

"That plan has changed," she says. "Find Reyes Vidal and bring him to me, alive." 

"You don't want him dead?"

She chuckles. "Oh, I do. But I want to put him on trial. For the people."

"For the people?" She's not the type for democracy.

"For the people. Vidal has harmed a lot of people on Kadara. They deserve justice too."

"So you're just prolonging this death then," Jean says.

"So? He's going to die regardless." She puts her hands on her hips. "Don't tell me you've gone soft for the bastard?"

"No."

"Well, see to it that you bring him back to me, alive." Sloane walks back to her crowd. "I'll see you on the battlefield."

He hates him. He hates him. He hates him. He hates him. He hates him. He hates him. He repeats the mantra in his head, over and over.

He doesn't hate him, really.

Jean settles on a cliff overlooking the prefab. He pears into his scope. He spots Sloane and her team crowding behind a couple of boulders. She sends a scout to examine the perimeter. Jean swings his rifle towards the base. No one has come out, not even his target.

" _Spirits! It's a trap!"_ Kaetus yells over the comm line. " _We've been ambushed._ "

The sound of static and gunfire alternate. He hears people dying in the background. Outcast? Collective? He can't tell who. Despite their allegiances, they're all the same. They breathe the same air and die on the same soil. 

_"I'm sending you my men!_ " Sloane calls. 

Turrets rise on the roof. They shoot down every one of Sloane's men crossing the clearing. Jean shoots down one. Half a minute later, a new turret replaces it. 

" _Fuck. Take out those turrets_!" Sloane commands. 

"Taking them out would be pointless. A new turret will take its place and who knows how many they have," Jean reports.

He scopes on the turret's feet, following the wires connecting them to a junction. The junction switches in short intervals between green and yellow. He fires at another turret. Both lights turn yellow. Half a minute later, they both turn green. 

He pages Sloane. "There's an interval of around 30 seconds when the turrets don't fire."

 _"And you're saying we should fly across the clearing._ "

"No." Jean rolls his eyes. He activates disruptor ammo on his M-13 Raptor. "There's a way I can do to make the turret reload slower."

He loads a new thermal clip into his rifle. "You probably can't see it from your area but there's a junction connecting the turrets. If I overload it with disruptor ammo, it should buy you some time."

" _You don't think it would just blow up the whole thing_?" 

"I don't know." He peaks into his scope, aiming for the junction. "But you can see for yourself." 

He fires. 

The junction crackles with electricity. The turrets stop. Smoke rises from the junction. It blows up, clearing the roof and sets the prefab on fire. On the other side, Sloane runs with her team across the clearing and disappears behind the rock formation. 

He spots him. 

He stands on the far end of the cliff, watching the burning prefab. He hasn't seen him in full armour before. Juan Pérez prefers wearing leather bomber jackets. 

(The armour looks good on him.)

He isn't Juan Pérez. He's Reyes Vidal, the Charlatan, the enigmatic leader of the Collective, and Jean has blown his base apart.

Reyes sees him. He runs. Jean chases him, past the opening between the mountains towering the base and away from the battle. 

Reyes is too far ahead. He can't catch up to him. Unless…

Using his biotics, Jean charges at Reyes. He tackles Reyes on the ground, behind a large boulder. He straddles his hips and locks his wrists with biotics. Reyes struggled against his binds, stilling when Jean presses a pistol at his neck.

He lifts Reyes' chin up using his pistol. "Talk."

"What do you want me to say?" His eyes are dark with defiance and fear, and beneath it all, want. 

"I don't know. Just fucking talk." 

"You want me to tell you I'm wrong, isn't it?" He goads him. "That there's nothing wrong with Sloane's rule or the Initiative. That the man we saw at the torture house has the right to live despite strapping a bomb on his chest and running into the Slums, planning to detonate it?"

"Was I worth nothing to you?" Fuck. He can't stop the tears from falling. Fuck. 

Reyes says nothing. 

"Did you really mean what you said at the cliff that I'm not just some kid who failed to dream?" He whispers, dragging his palm over his ugly tears. "Or were you just telling me that so you can use me."

The battle rages on in the distance, a faded noise in their silence.

"I did. No not about your worth," Reyes says. "I was angry at your sister for picking Sloane over me, for shooting me in the back. I wanted payback and when I heard you were coming to Kadara, I thought of charming you to fall in love with me so I can get her secrets from you and enact the perfect revenge."

"What happened?" Jean says the syllables slowly, quiet and meek. 

Reyes searches the depths of his eyes looking for the mysteries Jean has laid bare and confesses, "I fell in love."

"Vidal!" 

Shit, Sloane. 

"I saw you come here. Coward," he hears her spit. "Come out and face me!"

Reyes looks at him, then at his binds and at the direction of Sloane's voice. The cool façades he wears cracks, and fear seeps in between.

"Sloane!" Kaetus cries. He sounds hurt. "Our people." He heaves. "They're injured. They need help."

And he hears their footfalls retreat in the distance.

Reyes breathes. “You didn’t tell them I’m here. Why?”

"I'm supposed to hate you. I'm supposed to think you're vile, you're disgusting and maybe you are.” He’s crying again. He doesn’t care. "But whenever I think about you, I think of the cliff and the sunset, and how you made me believe that I’m worth something.”

He releases the biotic binds, sobbing into his hands. 

"Look I can take you back to the port I'll be discrete. No one would notice you were with me and you'll never see me again,” Reyes says softly. 

“No!” Jean slides his hands off his face. “I can’t go back there! Not without you! Sloane asked me to take you back alive so she can put you on trial.” he closes his eyes and exhales. “She’s going to execute you. I’m not letting that happen.”

“What do you want to do now?”

Jean gets up. He rubs his tears furiously. 

Taking Reyes' hand, he says, "Take me somewhere safe. Where no one can find us."


	5. come inside of my heart

They haven't talked since arriving at the safehouse. Jean sits on the sofa. Last time, he laid here, he was high on medigel and the close space he shared with the man he's infatuated with. They kissed then 

Reyes is in the kitchen, fixing them drinks. News has spread that the Outcasts have triumphed the Collective in a perilous battle. Lives were lost on both sides. The Outcasts' iron hold on Kadara Port persists and the Collective has dispersed. 

Or so Reyes says, on the way here. He tells him the Collective are planning retaliation after they rebuild their numbers.

Jean realizes he doesn't care. They're fighting a war for land which doesn't belong to them.

Reyes comes out of the kitchen holding two glasses. He sits beside Jean, setting the glasses on the table. He doesn't drink. 

They sit in silence for another long moment, the tension between them, heavy and thick. Jean brushes his hand against Reyes; he pulls back. Reyes looks at him, his eyes dark and intent and glowing like polished amber.

"Can I kiss you?" The question is so innocent, so uncertain and so unlike him. 

Jean nods. Reyes slides his hand behind his neck and pulls him for a kiss. Soft at first, testing Jean's reaction. He pulls away; Jean threads his fingers through Reyes' hair and pulls him back for a deeper kiss. His mouth is hot like he holds the sun between his teeth. Jean moans, wrapping his arms around his neck. He wants him.

Reyes tugs the zipper of his undersuit. He breaks the kiss. "Can I?"

Jean shakes his head. He gets up, pulls the zipper down, letting the suit pool around his ankles. Reyes watches him in awe, his mouth agape and his eyes dark with hunger. He snaps from his trance when he catches Jean staring at him. Reyes pulls the zipper down on his own undersuit, letting it drop to the floor. 

When they're both only in their boxers, Reyes pushes him on the floor. He grinds their hips, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses from his neck to his stomach and the trail of hair leading to where Jean wants his mouth on the most.

"Can I?" He breathes against his lips. Fingers skim the hem of his boxers.

"Yes."

Jean wakes up lying on a heap of clothes, naked and curled up against Reyes Vidal's warm and equally naked body. He lifts the arm around his waist, careful as to not disturb him and rolls out of their makeshift bed. He thinks of having a smoke but his cigs are miles away at the Port. Another place. Another life.

He sits on his space of the "bed." He watches Reyes sleep and the steady rise and fall of his chest. In sleep, the lines on his face have faded; he looks younger, vulnerable and at peace. Jean can watch him all night. He tucks a loose hair back in its place. 

Reyes opens his eyes. 

"Oh, sorry I woke you up," Jean says. 

Reyes smiles. He snakes an arm around his waist, pulling him close and rests his chin on Jean's shoulder. 

"What are you thinking?" Reyes presses a deep kiss on curve of his neck, and peppers kisses on his shoulder.

"I love you," Jean says, "and it's probably silly since I met you two weeks ago and I don’t know if you feel the same way but—” 

Reyes hooks his chin on his shoulder, tilts is head and kisses Jean slowly.

“I love you, too,” he says when they part, breathless, pressing their foreheads together. The world is an ugly place, unkind and unforgiving for people like him. In the sanctuary Reyes and he have created, they can make it beautiful.

\-- **Fulano de Tal is online** \--  
\-- **DukeE is online** \--

 **FT** : Hey Boss, where'd you go? Sloane is turning Kadara Port inside out trying to find you.  
**DE:** I can't tell you my location but I'm safe and Sloane shouldn't be able to find me here.  
**FT:** And Ryder?  
**DE:** He's with me.   
**FT:** Shit, this is bad. Sloane has asked the Pathfinder for help. They think you kidnapped her brother.   
**DE:** She's right in away.  
**FT:** Wait, you actually kidnapped him?  
**FT** : I'm not complaining. It's just wasn't part of the plan.   
**DE:** No, I didn't. We came here together.  
**FT:** Ah, well congrats Boss! I knew one of your plans would work! So what Initiative secrets can we use against them?  
**DE:** None.  
**FT:** None? As in nothing? No secrets?  
**DE:** As in we won't use him for anything. He doesn't deserve it.  
**FT:** I mean that's your call. I won't complain but you know you're going to anger a lot of people here. With your uhm relationship  
**FT:** Just be careful okay.

**I.**

It feels like he has loved him before, in a different place, a different time, a completely different universe perhaps, where they’re neither Jean nor Reyes. Just two people whose heart and soul are connected by a red thread. They crossed time and space, traveled through histories just to find each other. 

Six hundred years ago, he would have found the concept asinine. It goes beyond logic and reason. Time and space don’t work that way. The theory of multiple universes hasn’t been proven as fact. But still, it feels right curled up against him in the quietness of the space they have created, or when they’re lost in each other’s heat. It’s like a homecoming. 

What a marvelous concept. In a different universe, a different time, a different place, there’s a version of he and Reyes, lying in the same way. Happy and in love. 

It makes the aftermath in their universe trivial. 

**II.**

He decides his favourite place in the universe is the space between Reyes' neck and shoulder. 

He thinks about the other versions of them in the other universes. Do they lie in the same way? With the Jean from those universe curled under their Reyes' chin? 

**III.-IV.-V.**

There's a pool close by, sparkling as though made with diamonds. They go for a swim every morning and have sex on the shore with their naked bodies glistening under the early light. 

No word from Ferreira yet. He's starting to think they'll never get one and that's okay. Jean forgets there's a world outside of the safehouse. 

**VI.**

He tells him about his plans on the sixth day, plans for the future after he seizes Kadara from Sloane Kelly. 

"Rule with me." Reyes traces the outline of his jaw with his index finger. "I want you by my side."

Jean says nothing. 

**VII.**

"There's this place I want to take you to," Reyes says. They're huddling in front of a makeshift fireplace projected by an Omni tool. His head rests on the space between Reyes' neck and shoulder while Reyes plays with his hair. "I'd like to go there tonight."

Jean kisses his chin. "I thought we're not supposed to leave the safehouse."

"It's just on the mountain. I'm sure the Outcasts won't find us there."

"Okay."

Reyes takes him to a cliff overlooking a valley. He’s been here before when he and Pérez--no Reyes sat and drank whiskey and shared their dreams and aspirations, and Jean realized he was in love. It feels like a lifetime ago. They were so innocent back then, fooling around and drinking whiskey as the Govorkam sets.

Now, the valley is dark. 

Reyes lies down on the ground, patting the open space. Jean lies beside him, weaving their fingers together. A canopy of stars night sky hangs above them. Without the port's lights intruding their beauty, they stretch across the vast sky, filling every dark space with their light.

“It’s beautiful," Jean says, awed.

"I thought you might like it."

He turns away from the stars and faces him. "Hey, Reyes?" 

"Hmm?"

"Can we stay here forever? I mean the safehouse, and the pool and this." 

He expects a quip, a joke about how forever is a long time or how he has duties for the Collective and his ambition to rule Kadara port. Instead, Reyes brings their foreheads together. Closing his eyes, he exhales,

"Yes."


	6. give yourself to harmony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **cw:** for descriptions of torture and violence
> 
> also i think i wrote smut

“This suits you.” 

He’s wearing nothing but Reyes’ shirt which hangs loosely on his form. Reyes runs his hands along his sides, underneath his shirt. Jean bites his lip, rolling his hips; watching Reyes as his eyes grow dark as he drags his ass along his hardening cock.

“Hmm...here I thought you prefer me naked," Jean leans down to kiss him. He moans into his mouth as Reyes squeezes his ass. He flips them around so Jean is on his back.

"True," he says, sucking on Jean's collarbone. His breath hitches when Reyes slides two slicked fingers in and out of him. "I bet you look good in anything, love. In a suit, naked, skin flushed and wearing nothing but my shirt."

" _Fuck_." His eyes flutter closed. Reyes wraps his hot mouth around his cock, dragging his lips along the length in time with his fingers. He shudders. Both sensations have his toes curling and him clinging on the sheets.

And Reyes stops. He releases his mouth with an audible pop and withdraws his fingers. 

Jean whimpers, bucking his hips. " _Please_."

Reyes chuckles and bites the shell of his ear, whispering. "Would you like me to fuck you while wearing nothing but my shirt?" 

"Hah...here I was hoping I can ride you this morning," Jean manages a grin.

"That can be arranged."

Reyes slides his arms beneath his back, lifting him onto his lap. Jean throws his arms around Reyes' neck, kissing him deeply before sinking down on his cock. He stops, savours the fleeting moment where Reyes looks at him as though he has the sun and stars hiding behind his eyes. They've been in the safehouse for a week, maybe or a few days but it feels like they've spent an eternity here. Lived full lives in bliss, secluded from the chaos.

He rolls his hips in slow, languid strokes, moaning when Reyes rocks into him with deep, sharp thrusts. He buries his face in Jean's neck, stifling a laugh.

"What?" Jean manages.

"Nothing," he smiles and kisses Jean’s lips.

Now, he's laughing himself. "Seriously, what is it? If it's a joke about my name, you already told me the first time I rode your dick."

"I was just thinking about how lucky I am to have you." He presses his forehead against Jean's. "Despite everything, you're still with me."

"Oh my god, now you're gonna make me cry." He grinds his hips down _hard_ , coaxing a groan from Reyes.

"Is that a bad thing?" 

Jean cups his cheeks, brushing a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. "Yes. I want every single moment here with you to be happy."

It doesn't take too long before he's hurtling towards his orgasm like a bullet. He quickens his pace, rolling his hips harder and chasing for that peak. Reyes slides his hand between them and wraps it around his cock, pumping in tandem with his thrusts. Pleasure numbs his mind and the only thing he can think of is how close he is over the edge. A litany of _please_ , _don't_ _stop, harder_ , _faster_ drips from his tongue like a prayer to a God he doesn't believe in; a God made flesh before his eyes, bringing him higher and higher and higher until he sees the stars and--

Then Reyes' Omni tool rings. 

He stops.

Jean crashes from his high.

_Fuck._

_Fuck. Fuck. Fuck_.

"Ngh...who could it be?" He drops his head on Reyes' shoulder. Goddamnit, he wants to--needs to come. He rocks his hips, trying to chase his high.

"It's from Ferreira."

 _Don't answer it. Please don't answer it._

Reyes takes the call.

It's a recording. 

Sloane Kelly. 

_"Hello, Charlatan_ ," she says with a wicked smile. She's in a room with faded gray walls and bright yellow light like the prison rooms he's seen in the Collective's torture houses. Ferreira sits on a metal chair, bound, blindfolded and disfigured. A dark purple bruise swells on his cheek; blood drips from his forehead, staining the dark cloth. There are several cuts on his face, some are fresh.

He's been tortured, like the man he has seen at the Collective's torture house. 

He looks at Reyes. 

Bile rises up his throat.

" _Our lovely information broker has been providing us with information for the last six months,"_ she paces around the room, tapping a metal pipe on her palm _"I had Kaetus verify all of them. Turns out most of the information, he's been giving us is fabricated or useless_."

She digs her fingers into his scalp. Ferreira screams. " _And this son of a bitch has been sending you top secret Outcasts information, including the plans for our attack at Spirit's Ledge. Isn't that right, Ferreira?"_

 _"Boss, I'm sorry I tried my best to keep them off your back--_ " 

_Crack._ Sloane swings a metal pipe at his cheek. Ferreira spits out blood; the purple bruise on his face darkens. 

_"I should have shut you up along time ago. You!_ " She points to a figure offscreen. " _Tie this over his mouth and put a bag over his head!"_

A salarian walks into the frame with a rattan sack. She takes the cloth from Sloane and proceeds to bind Ferreira at her orders. Sloane steps in front of the scene. She closes her face on the camera 

_"So, you like deals don't you? Of course, you're the bloody Charlatan. Let's make one_ \--" 

" _Wait! Wait! You promised me you'll let me say something before you make a deal_ ," a familiar voice comes from outside the frame. 

_"Fine_ , _Kaetus_ _turn the camera to the Pathfinder_. _Now!_ " Sloane barks. 

Gabriela.

She looks worse than the last time Jean saw her. Her blonde-black hair is dishevelled. The lines on her brown skin are deeper, her cheeks wet and her eyes are puffed and red.

She's been crying. 

" _Hello, Reyes_ . _Is it okay if I call you that? I just wanna be sure_ " she says. " _I know you kidnapped him, my brother, Jean_."

A pang of guilt swirls inside his gut. Kidnapped?

" _And, and_ ," she drops her head on her palms and sobs. " _If this is payback for what I did, I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. Just please don't hurt him. Please_." 

She looks directly into the camera. Fresh tears roll down her cheeks. " _I don't know if you have it in your heart to care. He's the only family I have left._ "

The camera turns back to Sloane. " _So here's the deal Charlatan. Thanks to your little double agent and Pathfinder Ryder for hacking through the systems, we have access to all Collective information. You can turn yourself in, return the boy to the safe and loving arms of his sister and I will return Ferreira to you alive and your information would be safe."_

 _"If not_ , _Ferreira dies and this information might just I don't know,_ " she waves her hand. " _Fall into the lap of the Nexus' Head of Security, Tirian Kandros and that your dear, sweet Collective is planning to wage an all-out war with the Nexus."_

She smiles like she carries the world in her palms. _"You have 48 hours."_

The transmission ends. 

He's numb. He can't move, can't think.

"We need a plan," Reyes says. "I still have a contact at the port who can negotiate--what are you doing?"

Jean finds his boxers in the mess of clothes. He slips them on and finds his undersuit. Fuck, why didn't he bring a change of clothes? This mess is all his fault. He has to fix it.

His undersuit is in the closet. 

"Can we talk about this?" Reyes says.

"I'm going to my sister. I'm telling her the truth about us," he fits into his undersuit, tugging the zipper up to his neck. 

"What?"

Jean walks out of the bedroom. The rest of his armour is still in the living room where they discarded them on the first night. 

Reyes follows him. "What about our promise not to leave this place?"

"My own sister thinks you kidnapped me!" 

He straps his braces around his arms, fits into his chest armour and shoulder pads. 

"And you think that by just telling her about us, she would back down?" Reyes lowers his voice.

"Yes," Jean insists. "I know her more than anyone else and if she truly cares for me, she'll support us--you."

"And Sloane?" 

"I don't know about Sloane." He checks his pistol, half capacity. It's more than enough to help him through the Badlands. He hopes he won't fire a single shot on the way. "But if you have my sister's support then she can protect you from Sloane." 

Jean straps his boots on. Grabbing his helmet, he walks towards the exit.

"Wait," Reyes calls, rushing towards the door.

Jean turns around. "Look you can't change anything--" 

He cuts him off with a deep and possessive kiss. Reyes hooks his leg on Jean’s thigh and throws his arms around his neck as if Jean would disintegrate if he lets go. They stay like this for what seems like an eternity. Then Jean breaks the kiss, leaning against his forehead. 

“I love you.” Reyes’ hand lingers on his jaw, begging him to stay. 

“I'm sorry." Those are the only words he can offer. He puts on his helmet and leaves.

Finding a shuttle to Ditaeon has been easier than he expected. They make routine scans throughout the Badlands every three hours or so. All Jean has to do is stand at the right place and at the right time for a shuttle to pick him up. One finds him as soon as he stands at the foot of the valley. 

When he steps out of the shuttle, he spots the Nomad parked at the bay. Perfect, she's here. Sneaking past Ditaeon personal, he finds her in one of the private offices. She's speaking to three individuals clad in Initiative armour. Jean hides behind a wall and waits.

The door hisses open. He waits until the footfalls fade into the distance before stepping inside the office. 

"The meeting's dismissed," Gabriela says, her back facing him. "We will reconvene tomorrow once we have more information."

He moves closer. Each step he takes gets heavier, as though his ankles are made of lead. Gabriela spins around. Deep circles form underneath her eyes and Jean curses at himself for letting this happen to her.

"What do you need?" She says.

Jean unlatches the clip under his chin. With one motion, he removes his helmet and drops it on the ground. Gabriela's eyes widen. Her body trembles as though she has seen a ghost. 

She pulls him into a tight embrace. He doesn’t realize how much he misses her until they’ve been apart for so long. He regrets every wrong thing he has done to her.

Gabriela holds his cheeks. She exhales in relief. “He didn’t harm you?”

Jean shakes his head. 

“That’s odd,” she says. “Usually, the Collective tortures the people they kidnap.”

Her smile falters. Gabriela searches his eyes as if they didn’t grow up together. “You weren’t kidnapped, weren’t you?”

On the way to Ditaeon, he has thought of and rehearsed every word and every syllable he’s going to say about his relationship with Reyes. They fizzle completely out of his mind, and instead, he says

“I fell in love.”


	7. blue (the most human colour)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **TW: for thoughts of suicide.** No attempts at suicide happen. But if you wish to not read it, skip to the end after SAM appears.

He's starting to hate this place.

And it's funny because all he ever wanted since waking up is to be on the Tempest. He'll laugh if his heart doesn't feel bruised or if his own twin sister isn't lecturing him right now.

"He's just using you. Telling you what you want to hear," Gabriela paces from one corner of the kitchen table to the other. "He'll discard you like everyone else. It's what he does. I can't believe you trust him."

"He isn't like that with me," Jean insists. "He loves me."

Gabriela looks at him in the eye. "Do you honestly believe that?" 

" _Yes_."

Tears well up in his eyes. He remembers the safehouse, the sanctuary he and Reyes built as a shield from the chaos. He recalls every confession and every kiss and every touch and they’re _real_ to him. 

"Jean, I trusted him too," she drags a hand along her face. "He was better than Sloane and all the other exiles in that forsaken place. And how does he repay it? By using me as a lure to try and kill Sloane." 

"And what? Sloane's better now?" He challenges her. "Kadara is a fucking mess because she can't let go of a grudge. People are openly beaten up in the streets. You think that's better?"

"As if Reyes Vidal is any better! You've seen the Collective's torture houses. You think that's what Kadara needs? A martial law where people disappear and come back dead and mutilated!"

He wants to tell her no he doesn't want his rule either. Jean knows their histories; he's listened to enough tales by their lolos and lolas of the old days that he can hear their voices in his sleep. Both of them are terrible for Kadara. 

All he wants is a life of peace with Reyes away from the turmoil. They'll have their house under the stars where they can stargaze every night and a sparkling pool close by where they can swim in every morning. And they'll be happy. All of them.

But syllables refuse to form on his tongue; they come out as a croak. 

"Look," Gabriela exhales, "tomorrow we're leaving Kadara with you on the Tempest. We're still trying to contact the Quarian Ark but until then, you will be stationed at Prodomos under Cora's new science team." 

She reaches across the table and holds his hand. "Don't worry. When we get back any info about the Quarian Ark, you'll be the first on the team. And we can explore the stars together just as you always wanted."

Jean clenches his fists. He wants none of this. He wants to protest. He wants to scream and cry and mess up the fucking place because he left the only person who cares about him in this entire cluster in their sanctuary.

"What happens to him?" He asks instead.

Gabriela draws her lips in a thin line. "Sloane has sent a team to capture him. Using Ferreira's Omni tool, they were able to track his location at a remote building atop Kurinth's Valley."

It feels like he's been stabbed.

"And then what?"

"Then, it's up to Sloane on how she wants to deal with him. They'll have a trial tomorrow." Gabriela says. She squeezes his hand. It doesn't make reassure him if those are her intentions. "I'll try to negotiate with her. Bring him to justice at the Nexus' court. Don't worry."

They say nothing after. Gabriela gets up from her chair and turns to leave.

"You know Sloane's going to kill him, right? She's going to kill him and stick a pike through his head and display it at the port for everyone to see," he sobs. The tears he has been holding back roll down his cheek and drips on the metal table.

Gabriela purses her lips. "I'll try my best."

He wishes he has the power of time manipulation. The ability to stop, rewind and fast forward at any moment he desires, how can anyone want anything else? 

If he has the power of time, he can go back to when he and Reyes first met, and whisk him away from this place. If he has the power of time, he can tell past-him, the one who lounged around the Hyperion, waiting for an opportunity to be bold, make a stand. No opportunities are waiting for him at the corner unless he starts them.

If he has the power of time, he can create another timeline, one where he and Reyes can finally have their peace.

But in this timeline, he doesn't have the power to manipulate time and Reyes is in a prison cell, counting the hours till his death day

The edge of the mattress sinks. Jean pulls the covers from his face and sees Kosta sitting with a terminal on his lap.

"Hi, I know we haven't talked much since leaving the Milky Way," Kosta says with a comforting smile. "But I remember you said you liked Con Air unironically and National Treasure, and I thought we could have a Nic Cage vid marathon?" 

He turns around, pulling the covers over his head. Kosta means well but he's not in the mood for vids or anything really.

"I have beer and a couch?" Kosta offers, bouncing on the bed. "Believe me is more comfortable than the mattress."

"Can you just leave me alone?" Jean groans, putting the pillow over his head.

"Okay Liam, that's enough," he hears Vetra come inside the crew quarters. 

“Not sure what else you can do. Even beer and a comfortable couch won’t get him out of bed.”

“Don’t worry. I dealt with this all the time when Sid was growing up. You just have to--” He feels a sharp pinch on his shoulder. Jean yelps, throwing the covers and the pillow on the floor and curling his body at the headboard. 

“See it worked,” Vetra grins triumphantly. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He glares at Kosta. “I thought I told you to leave me alone.” 

They look at each other, waiting for the other to speak.

Kosta speaks first, ”we were worried about you.”

“Yeah, you haven’t eaten anything or left your bed since you got here,” Vetra says. She sits on the bed, her voice soft. “I understand what you’re going through. I myself had some complicated relationships throughout the years. Some of my partners ended up dead, in jail or worse.”

"Of course, back then I thought it was the end of my world like you do right now." She chuckles. Jean's not laughing.

Vetra smiles, placing a talon on his shoulder. “One day, you’ll find love again. I did.”

"Yeah, I heard the deputy chief engineer at Prodomos is single, handsome and is into men," Kosta says. 

"Then why don't you date him?" Jean grumbles. 

"He's not my type."

"Look, the point is you're being a drama queen right now," Vetra says. 

"I won't be if the man I love isn't heading for the execution block tomorrow," Jean snarls. He rubs his eyes."Fuck, what's the point? None of you care about how I feel anyway."

"And have you considered how your sister feels?” She raises her voice, her mandibles clicking on her cheek. “How she lost sleep trying to find you? How she wouldn't eat because all she can think about how she would bargain with the most dangerous man in the cluster just so she can get you back alive and unharmed? And now you want her to do the impossible, bargain to keep your boyfriend alive without causing an all-out war with Sloane Kelly. Do you understand how much of a political clusterfuck that is?”

She gets up. “You know what you don’t. Maybe you and Vidal do deserve each other.”

She walks out of the crew quarters without turning back. 

“I’ll be downstairs if you still want to do the vid marathon,” Liam says softly, folding his terminal and holding it against his chest. He walks out of the crew quarters. 

Jean picks up the pillow and the sheet from the floor. Sitting in the middle of the mattress, he covers himself with the sheet and cries and cries until his eyes hurt. When he has no more tears left to shed, he screams into the pillow until his voice gives out.

“SAM, can you give me a list of prototypes?” 

The Tempest has switched into its night cycle, matching Kadara's own. No one is on the bridge except for him. He pours over the plans at the Research terminal. Nothing useful for what he plans to do. 

"May I ask what for?" SAM says. 

"So I can get a headstart for my reassignment in Prodomos. Surely, I need armour that can turn me invisible if we need to explore the environment without disturbing the fauna." He swipes the interface close. "Oh, maybe a stun gun when I need to incapacitate those Remnant for experiments."

He adds. "And I can't sleep. Working on something, usually gets me drowsy after a while." 

SAM says nothing for a moment. 

"You wish to save Mr. Vidal," he says frankly. 

"Fuck, how did you know?" 

SAM replies cooly. "I can sense when an individual is lying. Your heart rate is going faster than normal speed and your palms are sweating."

He rubs his palms together. They're clammy and sticky, fuck he's right. 

"And even if I don't have full control of your bodily functions like the Pathfinder, I can still listen to your thoughts." 

"Okay fine!" He throws his hands in the air. "Yes, I'm going to save him and it would be easier if I have those prototypes. So please let me see them."

"I can't let you do that."

"Why not?" 

"The Pathfinder would not be very happy if I let you see them," SAM says. 

Jean clenches his hands, hard enough to pierce through flesh and draw blood. His head feels light; his breathing haggard. 

"Is everything alright, Jean?" SAM asks, more concerned than he's ever heard him.

"No, nothing's alright!" he snaps. He leans his elbows on the surface, burying his face in his hands. "You want my sister happy? Think of how happy she would be if she finds my body in the bathroom, lying in a pool of my own blood, dead." 

"Or in the crew quarters," he sniffs, "a bedsheet wrapped around my neck, hanging from the ceiling, dead. I've thought of it SAM. I've thought of ending it all. I can't be happy here or in Prodomos, or anywhere when the man I love is dead."

He slides down on the cool metal floor, hugging his knees and sobbing. He thinks about asking to be put back in cryo, hijacking his pod's temperature settings and setting it to critical. Maybe, he can pass away in his sleep peacefully. He can request it for tomorrow, the same date as Reyes' execution. Then they can meet in another universe and try again.

"Jean?" SAM calls.

"What?" 

"I have granted you permission to access terminal 0x0251. Prototypes."

He wipes the tears on his face with his arm. "Really?"

Jean gets up. A new interface flashes on the research terminal. The list contains tech he hasn't seen on the normal terminal. Most of them aren't available to the public.

"Thank you SAM," he smiles despite the tears on his face. "Why?"

"Your happiness is the Pathfinder’s happiness,” SAM says, “I hope you understand that.”

He scoffs. "If my happiness is hers, then she could have done a better job at making sure I'm happy."

"She is only trying to protect you."

"Yeah well, she should have let me be." He selects the invisibility armour, stun bullets made with RemTech and an information interface which can be integrated with his helmet. The interface can scan from points of interest of a location to heat sensors. It's perfect for his plan.

"Now shut up and let me get to work. I need to finish these by dawn."

Rays of sunlight peak through the Tempest's windows. Streaks of pink meet the dark blue sky as Govorkam rises from its slumber, signalling dawn's arrival.

Jean chugs a cup of instant coffee. He hasn't slept all night. He's just about finished with the invisibility armour. Sliding the bracers underneath the microlaser, he binds a microchip onto the circuit board. He presses a metal plate over it, covering the complex circuitry. He presses a button on the glove and waits with bated breath for the result. 

Both the glove and he bracer turn invisible. Jean pumps his fist in the air. 

Finally. 

When he arrives at the cargo bag, his armour's invisibility cloak vanishes. The tech needs ten minutes to recharge before he can use it again. Luckily, no one is here. Staying close to the walls, he creeps toward the exit. 

"Where are you going?" 

Shit. Vetra. She stands in front of the exit, her arms crossed.

"I'm going out for some fresh air," he lies. 

"In full armour?" Vetra's mandibles flare. "You're going after him aren't you?" 

"Yes, I'm sorry. Tell Gabby, I'm so sorry. I can't be happy here. You know that." He closes his eyes, exhales deep and pulls out his pistol and aims at Vetra.

"Jean, don't do this." 

Jean replaces the clip with stun bullets. "I'm sorry."

His fingers tremble when he fires the shot. The bullet strikes Vetra’s side and she crumples to the ground. She groans; she's still breathing.

“I’m sorry,” Jean says again before he opens the exit. 


	8. blue (the colour of our planet from far far away)

A crowd gathers in front of a stage by the throne room. Sloane stands in the middle, holding a bound Reyes by the arm. She addresses her audience with vigour. They toss rotten fruit and dirt at Reyes.

Jean scopes the stage. There's a line of Outcasts soldiers behind Sloane and Reyes, holding their assault rifles out. He spots a dead body lying at the back corner. The bullet wounds are still fresh.

It's Ferreira. 

They killed him. 

He pities him. Ferreira has nothing wrong but play as an agent on both sides. 

And they killed him because of Jean. And soon, Reyes will be lying on the same dirt as him, covered in bullet wounds. 

He climbs down the building and turns on his invisibility cloak. He has about fifteen minutes to distract the crowd and the Outcasts, get Reyes and escape. 

He walks along the wall, careful as to not be heard. The invisibility cloak only renders him invisible but it doesn't silence the sound. When he reaches the corner of the stage, Jean takes out a flare. 

He aims for the throne room.

Suddenly, a ball rolls by his boot. The ball hisses, releasing a stream of smoke. A smoke bomb. 

The bomb explodes, followed by another and another. Soon, a large white cloud envelopes the square. 

Someone screams. Someone else fires a gun. The crowd disperses, running in every direction. He sees a krogan push a salarian and strips him of his belongings. A human, turian and asari beat up a different human in a circle. It's chaos.

"Find him! Someone find him! And whoever did this!" Sloane screams from somewhere in the fog. "Find them and bring them to me!"

Jean turns on his information interface. He has one goal. Find Reyes before the Outcast does. 

Even with his interface, searching through smoke proves to be difficult. Searching through a smoke cloud during a stampede? It's a Herculean task. On the way, a krogan challenges him to a fight. Jean puts two bullets between his eyes and launches him in the air with his biotics. He has no fucking time for this. 

He makes it to the stage. Reyes is crumpled on the ground. Jean rushes to his side and finds him breathing. Good. 

"Reyes, it's me," he says. "I'm here." 

"Jean?" He's blinded by the smoke, his voice weak and frail. He lifts his arm up from his side. His hands are coated with blood; he's been shot. 

"We have to get you out of here!" Jean says, his voice hoarse. 

He lifts Reyes arm over his shoulder. But before he can lift him up, a figure steps out of the smoke. 

Gabriela. 

Her grow wide when she sees him. She takes her pistol out, pointing it at Reyes and to him and back to Reyes. 

She slides her finger on the trigger. 

Jean steps in front of Reyes. Closing his eyes, he holds his hands up. 

_Don't shoot. Don't shoot._

Bang. But no bullet pierces through his flesh. Opening his eyes, he sees Gabriela pointing her pistol to the sky. She presses a button on her Omni tool.

"Yeah, they ran away," she calls. "I mean you know how he is. Plus my brother is with him."

She ends the call and glares at Jean.

"Get out of here, before I change my mind."

Dr. Nakamoto takes them in his clinic in the slums. One of Reyes most trusted and long-time acquaintance, he offers to help, no questions asked.

Jean finds him lying on a cot after his operation. A bandage is wrapped around his waist. Jean pulls out a chair to sit beside him.

He tells him he dwindling Collective agents are behind the smoke bombs at the port. Reyes has forwarded them his escape plans when Sloane took him from the warehouse. After this incident, he's not sure if there'll be a Collective. 

Jean rests his head on Reyes' bare chest. He can't offer much comfort but he hopes this is enough.

"Remember our first kiss," Reyes smiles weakly. "When I still went as Juan Pérez so I can fool you and you thought you can play hero by--"

"Standing in front of a rampaging eiroch, I know," he finishes for him. "You called me foolish and stupid for trying to save your life but the only thing I thought of then was you're alive."

Reyes smiles, tears swelling at the corner of his eyes. Jean brushes them off, sliding his hand along Reyes' cheek to his chin. 

"Can I ask you something?" 

Reyes nods. 

"While we were at the safehouse, just the two of us alone," Jean begins, "was any of that real?" He closes his eyes, inhaling deep. "Or were you just telling me what I wanted to hear."

"Yes. All of it." Reyes squeezes his hand, rubbing soothing circles on his forefinger. "I've lied about many things but not how I feel about you."

Jean's heart feels full. Tears stream down his cheeks at the intensity of it all. 

"Don't cry," Reyes says yet his eyes are watery too. "I want every single moment of us together to be happy.'

He wakes to the sound of gunshots. Jean groggily picks up his pistol, shielding Reyes with his body.

Dr. Nakamoto rushes in. He clears everything off the table and the shelves. 

"You have to get out of here," he says. "The Outcasts are raiding every corner of the slums trying to find you."

He addresses Reyes. "Kian Dagher is dead. Saw him get shot three times when he wouldn't say where you are." 

Reyes squeezes his hand. He doesn't have to ask who Kian Dagher is to know how important he is to Reyes. 

"Where would we go?" Jean asks.

Nakamoto fishes out keys from his pocket. He looks at Reyes and back to him. "I have a shuttle waiting for you at the backdoor. Can you fly?"

"Uhm, I'm not very good but I can manage " 

"I can," Reyes says, clutching at the wound at his side.

"But you're hurt! Let me do it!"

Nakamoto knits his eyebrows together. "Are you sure about this, Reyes? That wound is still pretty bad."

"Yes." He stands up tall. "And I know the perfect place where Sloane won't even think of finding us. It's not that far from here." His eyes turn misty and red. " The last haven I have here on Kadara. If anything else, I can rely on autopilot."

"Okay, but let me at least give you an extra dose of medi gel," Dr. Nakamoto insists.

"I'll start packing," Jean says.

 _Bang. Bang._ _Bang._

"Can't you wait? I'm in the middle of a surgery." Nakamoto calls. He orders Reyes to bite his hand before pressing the syringe into the wound. Reyes squeezes his eyes shut, his muscles growing tense. 

_Bang. Bang. Bang._

He quickly fixes a tourniquet on Reyes' wound. Reyes puts on a shirt and grabs the keys from Nakamoto. Jean grabs his knapsack and a crate of medical supplies. They both head for the back door.

"Do you not have any respect for the sick?" Nakamoto calls again. 

"The Queen of Kadara has given us explicit orders to visit any establishment that may be housing the criminal, Reyes Vidal and his accomplice," comes a gruff voice from the door.

"How can we contact you?" Jean whispers. 

"Reyes and I have a secure channel. No one knows about it," Nakamoto replies with a hushed tone. "Now you have to go, go, go. Now."

They rush out of the backdoor where a shuttle waits for them just as Nakamoto says. Jean helps Reyes climb onto the pilot's seat. 

"Ready?" Reyes asks. 

Jean twines their fingers together and nods. As the slums fade into the distance, Jean wonders if he has truly, deep within his heart, done the right thing.


	9. people ask me was it worth it

Reyes gets better every day. The bullet wound has faded into a pink scar and his colour has returned to its usual deep brown. He smiles more as well. Jean feels it against his lips, on his neck when he kisses him awake and sees his amber eyes light up when they lie side by side on their cot. 

Some nights, however, he curls under Jean's neck plays with the strands of his hair and tells him of his plans once he takes the throne from Sloane Kelly. 

Plans that will never happen. 

The Outcasts are still after them for sure. Jean has sniped a few of their agents, the ones who get too close to their little hideout in the Badlands, their new safehouse. But Sloane has more problems to deal with than a gang leader without a gang and his lover. The Roekaar have reformed on Kadara and are waging a guerilla war to take back Kadara from Sloane. 

Some say Sloane is winning, some the Outcasts are dying but the fires of rebellion have been lit in the hearts of the angara on Kadara. Her control of the throne is slipping from her grasp. 

Gabriela hasn't replied to the message he sent her after he and Reyes arrived in their hideout. It tells her Jean is okay and alive, and with Reyes in a secluded area where no one can find them. He thinks of sending her another message but decides against it. He only hopes she'll one day understand; he wants to see their mother. 

Every night, when Reyes is fast asleep. Jean goes out and watches the stars. He thinks of the universes and the different versions of Reyes and him. He wonders if they're happy; they must be. There must be a different universe where he and Reyes aren't living as fugitives. Maybe, one where he wakes up early and joins Gabriela on her ship as crew, and he meets Reyes as Reyes and not Juan Pérez. Maybe, in this universe, Reyes has the throne instead of Sloane and the Collective is alive and thriving. Maybe, he and Reyes are celebrating their second anniversary in this universe as partners, happy and in love.

In his universe, Jean knows he loves Reyes and Reyes loves him back, but he's not sure if they'll ever be truly happy.

And that's okay. 

\-- **DukeE** is online---  
\-- **DK** is online--

 **DK** : It is done.  
 **DK:** You have two hours before the scanners restart.  
 **DE:** noted, thanks


End file.
